Meredith Monk is one of those artists who seems to have been
around pretty much forever, at least, to musicians of my generation.
Long associated with the ECM label, her music is at once enigmatic,
and also in contact with a vast variety of genres in the Venn
diagram of contemporary music – from minimalism,
involvement in wider artistic projects, including earlier work
with visual artist Ann
Hamilton and with education and a variety of collaborations.
With Songs of Ascension, Monk has created an extended
composition inspired in part by Paul Celan’s writing about the
“Song of Ascents”, a title given to fifteen of the Psalms sung
on pilgrimages going up to Jerusalem. Monks’ own response to
“this idea of worship, walking up something and singing … fascinated
me”, and asking the question “why is up sacred and down not
sacred?” These ideas joined with a request from Ann Hamilton
to perform in an eight-story tower in Sonoma County, California.
This tower has two staircases, each spiralling through the interior
of the structure and only joining at the top, a double helix
shape which suggested the structure of DNA. This environment
is pictured in the booklet though is not the location used for
the recording. The limited space and circumstances dictated
the types of instrumentation possible, and this compact and
portable set of ensembles and individuals contributes to the
transparency and intimate clarity of the music.
Songs of Ascension is ‘classical’ in the way much contemporary
music is today – gathering from eclectic sources and leaning
on historical precedent. This ranges from simple but subtly
quasi-medieval gestures of harmony and melody and ancient ‘hocket’
techniques where notes are thrown between singers alternately,
through the use of established classical ensembles such as the
string quartet, introducing quasi-familiar jazz harmonies and
minimalist rhythms, and having no fear of introducing exotic
instruments and wider techniques of performance to create a
structure which is at once integrated but also a patchwork of
fascinating variety. The titles of the pieces are often an indicator
of their content. The Clusters form texture from instrument
or voices, with limited note ranges or slowly moving harmonies.
Falling is a richly gliding filigree of glissandi from
strings and voices. There are also movements with considerable
rhythmic drive, such as Burn, and unexpected instrumental
colours are always popping out of the woodwork and giving the
brain plenty of food for alertness and questioning. The more
introspective movements, such as Strand (Inner Psalm) are
remarkably beautiful – simple and compact, but creating moments
of timelessness like the individual miniature worlds in a pane
of stained glass – immediate and affecting, but something at
and through which one could stare for hours without losing interest.
With such a range of expression there are almost inevitably
one or two moments which appeal less than others, and for instance
the choral ‘nja nja’s of Ledge Dance didn’t do much for
me. There might be a strong element of ‘faith’ in this music,
but isn’t a great deal of what one might call religion. Respite
is a possible exception, coming across as rather churchy,
but always with that sense of an unanswered enigma and a firm
relationship with something earthy and natural – those little
string birds remind me a little of Janáček’s ‘Cunning Little
Vixen’. None of these movements is particularly long, and more
important than each individual musical tableaux is the context
of each, and their placement within the greater structure. The
cyclical nature of the piece as a whole is pointed out most
recognisably through the gently undulating two-part lines which
infuse each Variation, a poignant motief which to my
ears has some qualities which connect it to Appalacian folk
music. While most of this music is very approachable, there
are elements in some of Meredith Monk’s own singing which might
be described as mildly confrontational. The vocal gestures of
Fathom for instance, can have an emotional resonance
which is perhaps as far as this album goes in terms of discomfort
and challenge. There’s a whiff of the John Adams minimalist
in the progression for the final Ascent, where everything
is brought together in a climax which recedes as the opening
Clusters 1 advanced; from silence.
This is a fascinating release and a very fine recording, and
ECM has provided a nice booklet with plenty of informative photos.
Works like Songs of Ascension can end up either being
greater than the sum of their parts, or somewhat uneven collections
of more or less related pieces. This work has to be greater
than the sum of its parts, since it is hard to imagine any of
the individual numbers appearing as ‘hits’ separate from the
rest, though there is enough material here to create any amount
of new stand-alone pieces. This is different to a good deal
of Meredith Monk’s earlier work, and her solo vocals are only
one element in a rich tapestry of colour and sonority. The success
of Songs of Ascension is both in the refinement of its
conception as that of its performance, and I commend it both
to seasoned Meredith Monk-ites as to complete newcomers.
Dominy Clements
Meredith Monk and Vocal Ensemble 
